the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.



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12:22 p.m. + 2004-01-21 = 0...zero...noll

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i'm beyond quite-anxious. and strangley nervous at the same time. I realised but minutes ago that i've not drafted an itinerary... i haven't done when riina has visited either. but her and i are content just lying in bed for two weeks and watching films. what if this isn't brian's idea of fun? what if he wants to see the world's largest ball of twine? what if, what if, etc. though brian's here for half the time riina usually is and he and i have the option of [cover your eyes, innocent children!, for i am about to put this QUITE bluntly] fucking away any boredom/downtime. but this is me just rambling. the true cause of anxiety/nervousness would be from the onset of my day... the dreadful reality slapping me in the face: that i couldn't make my free-form tart at work because the produce department is completely out of bosc pears [which are the only ones that hold form whenst roasted].

i leave for the airport in four hours. though it is far too late to be immaculate, spic&span&spiffy can be achieved. and i'm off.

[if entries are sparse for the next 10 days it's cause i'm too busy being, to quote ms. knowles, dangerously in love. [now, i'm not sure of the sw etiquette, do i insert a 'yippee!' or a "heeeee-haaaaah!" here?].]

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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far

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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]

[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]

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or
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else...
immortality!



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